


How We Go On

by jessethejoyful



Series: After the Storm [2]
Category: Seven Kingdoms Trilogy - Kristin Cashore
Genre: Five Years Later, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-05-16 00:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14800904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessethejoyful/pseuds/jessethejoyful
Summary: A harsh winter in Monsea lifts to reveal shrouded mysteries that continue to haunt Bitterblue and her friends, testing everything they thought they knew about the seven kingdoms and the world that lies beyond their borders.





	1. Chapter 1

The weather experts in Bitterblue City called that winter the worst that Monsea had seen in forty years. 

Normally known for mild weather, the winter of Bitterblue’s twenty-fourth year brought in multiple massive blizzards, halting all production and activity in the city and the castle. Stacks of snow piled up along walls, in front of doors and on top of everything left outside. 

Bitterblue thought she would go stir-crazy before the storms let up. She was grateful, however, that the shocking storms had come in on the heels of Lord Giddon’s return, the first massive blizzard in January blowing in barely the day after he had ridden through the castle’s gates. 

When the Monsean delegation had finally gathered up to depart Raffin City at the end of August, following Raffin’s coronation, Giddon had informed Bitterblue that he would be staying in the city. She wasn’t surprised; Raffin had reinstated Giddon’s lordship and titles, though Giddon had turned down the offer of land on which he could rebuild his family’s legacy. All the people that had once lived under Giddon’s protection had found new homes in the years since Randa had leveled the estate, and he didn’t see the point in trying to create another township. Instead, he would stay with Raffin in the capital and help he and Bann, who had been named the king’s consort, to make some much-needed changes in the Middluns.

Giddon had kept his promise to keep Bitterblue updated through letters, telling her about the policies and good-will taking seed in the court. He informed her that Oll, Randa’s captain who had been like a father to Katsa while she still remained in the Middluns, had finally agreed to retire, he and his wife Bertol taking up a relaxing residency within the castle. Of course, Raffin still kept the man close, and he had become something of an advisor to the new king. 

The final letter she received from Giddon hinted that he might be able to get away for a while at the beginning of the new year. Then he’d turned up three days later with the terrible blizzard in tow, and Bitterblue had been shatteringly happy to see him.

It was he that Bitterblue cuddled with now, swallowed in the fluffiest blankets she’d ever seen, on the floor beside the hearth in her apartments. The fires in her castle had been blazing at full tilt for weeks now; she was almost worried they might run out of firewood. She was assured this was not a problem, though her concerns weren’t really squashed until her advisor Sabel had taken her to the stores, and she saw for herself the impressive lines of wood stacked neatly within the room. 

One of the few good things about the horrendous weather was that it very much slowed the flow of paperwork onto the queen’s desk, so she was left with less and less work each day that the snow continued to pile up. It would thaw for a few days and some activity would build; but another storm followed quickly, and she had more time to spend wrapped up with Giddon, or Hava when her sister wasn’t out running around in the snow like a madwoman. 

“I’m glad you were able to stay to help Raffin and Bann establish things,” she murmured to Giddon, curling up against his chest, “but I’m more glad that you were able to come back here for a while. Even if I have to keep sharing you with Raffin, I’m just thankful you’re here now.” 

Giddon snickered at this. “You’re not  _ sharing _ me with Raffin. After all, I’m going with you to the Dells in June, aren’t I?” He grazed his thumb across her shoulder, smiling down at her around his impressive beard. 

She groaned. “I keep thinking about that trip. I’m dreading it, if only because the work that I’ll be leaving behind will certainly multiply in my absence. It’s going to be horrific to return to.” 

Kneading the back of her neck, Giddon reminded her gently, “Things weren’t so bad when you returned from the Middluns, now were they? You should have more faith in your team, love. They take very good care of things for you.” 

Bitterblue supposed he had a point, but she was in a contrary mood. “That was only a few weeks, though! This trip will have me gone for nearly six months. I can’t imagine it’ll continue going so well, especially not with Sabel joining us.” She sighed gloomily and rested her face in his neck. 

“I think you’re just nervous,” he said sagely, and she groaned again. “I take that to mean I’m right.” His lips pressed to the top of her head. “Don’t let your nerves ruin the experience for you. Once we’re gone, you won’t even think about your paperwork, only the road ahead and the awe of a new world.” 

She tilted her head back and smiled softly, leaning up to press her lips to his. Time disappeared for a while as they sank into one another’s embrace. 

Some time later, Bitterblue slithered out of the blanket’s warmth and slipped immediately into a thick robe, the air away from the fire too cold to be on bare skin. Giddon watched her for a minute before pushing up as well, though he kept the blanket around him like a cloak. She thought it made him look imperial, like a winter king. Her heart dipped at the thought. 

She continued to stare at him, while he looked steadily back, patiently waiting for whatever she was apparently struggling to get out. 

“Have you ever wanted to be a king?” 

Whatever Giddon had been expecting, this was clearly not it. His mouth hung open in an ‘o’ for a moment, before he clicked it back shut and made a noise in the back of his throat. “I think every man has thought about what it would be like to be king,” he said slowly, clearly picking his words carefully. “When I had my family’s estate, I felt like one sometimes, and it brought me a lot of joy to take care of my people. But since that time… I’ve changed a lot, and it occurs to me less and less. I’m not certain I’d be cut out for it. Very few people are.” 

Her quiet smile returned; this was about the answer she’d anticipated. He was such a humble man, never seeing his true good the way she or other people saw it. She crossed the room to him, pulling at the edges of the blanket cape and gazing up at him through calm eyes. 

“If I asked you to marry me,” she said, surprised and impressed that her voice didn’t shake, “and be my king, would you say no?” 

She couldn't read the emotion that registered across his face. But she understood the hesitation in his voice as he said, “Bitterblue, I’m not sure…” 

Her heart was in her throat now, trying to escape. She forced it down before speaking. “Not sure about what? You love me, don’t you? And I love you. Isn’t that all that matters?” Her voice broke, and she didn’t try to cover it. 

He lifted his hands to her face and held her there, his eyes boring into hers. “I love you more than I ever realized I could love another person,” he said fiercely, his eyebrows furrowing downward. “It frightens me sometimes, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, the love we share.” His eyes closed for a fraction of a moment, before locking with hers again. “But we aren’t all as free as we wish to do whatever we like. Even if we’re in love. You’re a  _ queen _ , Bitterblue. Queens marry princes and kings, not underlords. Certainly not underlords that are nine years older.”

She shook her head. “Did you forget Raffin and Bann already? Bann has no titles, no holdings, no power, and he and Raffin are married in the eyes of the Middluns court. And if you think I care how old you are, you know very little.” She placed her hand on his chest and glared up at him. “If we’re to be apart, the only thing keeping us so will be your concern.”

A beat of silence passed between the two. Then, all at once, Giddon deflated and dropped to his knees before her, taking her hand in his and holding it to his lips. “It would be the utmost honor and privilege,” he said softly, “to be your husband.” Bitterblue fell to her knees with him, pulling his mouth to hers and kissing him like it was the first time. 

“I’m yours, and you’re mine.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some close friends return to the court in Monsea.

Instead of making a broad announcement to her advisors about the engagement, Bitterblue went first to Liene. The eldest on the team, Liene was straightforward and honest, but didn’t overwhelm Bitterblue with what she often saw as condescension from Froggatt. Liene felt more like a stern grandmother to her.

“There’s been an ongoing discussion among all of us for a while now,” she started when she called Liene into her tower office one morning, “about the issue of my marriage.” 

The old woman lifted one of her silver eyebrows. “Yes, Lady Queen. You’ve told all of us a number of times to drop the matter. Have you come to a decision?” All four of them had been presenting possibilities to Bitterblue for years, each of which she carefully declined. Sabel had mentioned Giddon once in passing, though Bitterblue had gotten the feeling she only suggested him because she realized the queen’s fondness for him. 

“Yes, I have. I asked Lord Giddon from the Middluns if he would marry me, and he accepted.” Bitterblue watched Liene’s face for a reaction, but saw very little. 

“You do both seem very fond of one another’s company,” Liene said drily, and Bitterblue had to wonder if there was anything that got past this sharp woman. 

Her voice was small as she asked, “So you’re not going to veto it?” 

“Lady Queen, as you’ve already gone and done the thing, there’s very little I can say in the matter, is there?” Bitterblue ducked her head, but Liene went on. “However, he’s a very kind young man, and all of us can tell her makes you very happy. I know you think we enjoy vexing you, but we just want what is best for you and this kingdom. This, however, I have no qualms with.” Looking up, Bitterblue saw that Liene smiled at her kindly, and the queen’s eyes swam with tears. 

“Thank you, Liene,” she whispered. 

“You’re very welcome, Lady Queen. Would you like me to bring the news to the others?” And she laughed at the expression on Bitterblue’s face, for Bitterblue had been dreading that task.

Alone again in her office, Bitterblue considered a city charter, sent from another corner of Monsea to be considered by the queen and her people. The Ministry of Reparations handled most of the things to do with city charters, but Bitterblue still liked to see them before decisions were made. 

It had been a long road to recovery in Monsea. Bitterblue sometimes thought that there would never be any real peace, that the wounds left by Leck would plague her kingdom for the rest of time. Even with all the changes she’d made after uncovering the dark truths of her previous administration, and the steps that had been taken toward rediscovering Monsean tradition, things were still uneasy. 

Bitterblue rubbed her fingers in her eyes, sighing heavily as she tried to enjoy her brief moment of solitude. 

The captain of her Monsean guard had come to her shortly after they had returned from the Middluns with odd news about the man who had attacked her in the city. 

“It’s all been very strange, Lady Queen,” he said to her, pushing his hand through his hair several times til it stood on end. “I’m not entirely sure what to make of all we’ve been uncovering. I think it should come to no surprise to you,” he said abruptly, looking at her with a strained expression, “that there are those out there who thrive off of chaos. King Leck was one of those people.”

“If I’m right - and I fear I may be - I believe there is a team of people, similar to the Council that Lady Katsa created… and they seek not stability, but anarchy.”

It took a lot of Bitterblue’s willpower not to snort at this. The concern in the captain’s face was real, and she didn’t know what to make of it. “Captain Olan,” she said slowly, leaning back in her seat, “I’m not sure how much evidence there would be in support of your claim.”

“I know it sounds absolutely mad,” Olan said in a thick tone, gesturing placatingly at Bitterblue. “But some of my findings have me really quite convinced.” He pulled from his pocket a sheet of paper, which he shook out and glanced over before speaking. “We were finally able to locate someone who recognized the man who attacked you. His name was Lairn; he lived in the city next door to the person we found to identify him. The neighbor told us he was an ‘odd sort of fellow, muttering to himself often. Up and disappeared four months ago, cleaned out his house completely’ and that was the last they’d heard of him, until now.”

“We traced him and his belongings as far as we could, and the trail took my men into the mountains in the south of Estill. It went cold there, but they asked around and found that there were some problems in the area. Some band of ragamuffins, causing trouble, thieving and things like that.” He squinted at his paper. “But it was more than just petty crime. One innkeeper told my men there were often shady looking people coming in and out, whom he usually sent away because he didn’t trust them or their money. And there was a system of caves, known to the people of the area to be almost habitable, and there seemed to have been some people taking up residence in them. There were often horses coming and going, and smoke from fires rising from them.” 

“While you were in the Middluns, Lady Queen, my men returned and we assembled a small force to raid the caves. They were roughly sure of the number of men, and it all went relatively smoothly. I was present to flush them out, and several of them are currently in the dungeons, awaiting questioning.” 

Bitterblue was floored, staring at the Graceling captain with wide eyes. “Did you find anything in the caves?” 

Her captain seemed a big smug now that he had her undivided attention. “We did. They left many papers, Lady Queen, because we came upon them very suddenly. Correspondences between people in other kingdoms, some of them detailing raids and excursions on different towns. We fair ransacked the place, and brought back everything we found. You’re welcome to rifle through it all.” His weight shifted from foot to foot. “We dug through their fire pit after putting it out and found some ashes, and think they might have tossed in more sensitive materials the moment they saw us. But everything else was still very incriminating.” 

“We have reason to believe your attacker was working with these people, and sought to bring your demise in order to send Monsea into the chaos they hope to return to the seven kingdoms.” 

The statement was absurd, to say the least. But now, Bitterblue sat back in her chair, hands folded across her stomach, and thought hard about it. She supposed it made no less sense than anything else in the world. And the captain had seemed so sure of himself, stating the facts for her clearly and meeting her eyes with a level expression. It was easier to avoid thinking about such a big problem, but alone with her thoughts, she found it was all she could focus on. 

Then the door swung open, and all thoughts of criminal bands were driven from her mind. 

“Katsa!” she cried, rushing from behind her desk and throwing herself into the waiting arms of the beaming Graceling. “You’ve returned!” 

Lips pressed to the top of Bitterblue’s head and hands scrunched up her hair, as Katsa pulled her back to look at her. “Did you miss me?” Bitterblue pushed her face against Katsa’s chest and they both stumbled, with some laughter. “Woah there, Bitterblue, you’re going to knock me over!” 

There were tears in Bitterblue’s eyes and on her cheeks, and she made no efforts to wipe them away. “Oh, Katsa,” she breathed, trying to center herself on their embrace. “Katsa, so much has happened since you’ve been gone. I’m so glad you’re back.” 

This time, when Katsa pulled away, Bitterblue met her gaze, leaning into the hand that cupped her cheek. “What do you mean, love? What’s happened?” 

Po came through the door then, sweeping Bitterblue into his arms; and she knew she wasn’t keeping anything from him that was going through her mind, as she tried to think of how to explain it all to them, and she was surely flooding his mind with her sudden franticness. 

“Alright, Beetle,” Po said in an alarmed tone, holding her back at arm’s length, “let’s all go sit down and talk. You certainly have a lot to tell us.” 

It wasn’t easy to relay everything she needed to Katsa. She figured it was best to start with Raffin and Randa; as soon as she heard that, Katsa was up and rearing, ready to leap back on a horse and take off for the Middluns. Po practically had to hold her down on the couch, because he knew Bitterblue had more to say. Bitterblue, who had shrunken into her armchair and tried to make herself small, because Katsa’s emotions were so big that they filled the room. She told them next about the pink and green-eyed Graceling, whom no one had heard of since he disappeared from the Middluns court in August. 

“Hold on,” Katsa said, backtracking. “You say this Graceling  _ absorbs _ other Graces? What kind of nonsense is that?” 

“Apparently he does it just by touching them,” Bitterblue said glumly, picking at the seams of the armrest and wondering where in the world Giddon was at that moment. She supposed she ought to tell them about him too, but figured that would come later. Her eyes flicked to Po and he was staring at her in wonder with his uneven eyes. “He picked up Hava with strength like Holt’s and he has her Grace; Raffin had a mind-reader who detected him disguised as a stool in the council chamber.”

It worried Bitterblue that Po didn’t seem more perturbed by this man. If anything, he seemed highly intrigued. “And he told you he had no evil intent? How strange. How truly odd. What about the men your captain detained?” He must have plucked that out of Bitterblue’s rush of thoughts, and Katsa glanced at him in question. 

Another rush of Katsa’s rage came following Bitterblue’s description of the attack in the city, and the possible existence of a criminal ring made to counter the Council. Those beautiful Graceling eyes snapped like ice, though she managed to stay seated. 

“We’re gone for a  _ few months _ ,” Katsa seethed, her arms and legs crossed so tightly Bitterblue thought she might snap in half, “and everything falls apart!” Her eyes touched back on Bitterblue, and her expression softened. “You said you’ve not heard another thing about that Graceling since August?” 

Bitterblue shook her head. “No one’s heard a word one since he vanished.” Katsa moved over then, scooting away from Po, and patted the space on the couch in between the two of them. Bitterblue pushed up from her own seat and went to them, folding easily into Katsa’s side as her arms enveloped her. Po turned in his spot and took one of Bitterblue’s hands, his thumb pressing against her knuckles. 

“I’m sorry we were gone so long, Beetle,” Po said quietly. “I’m sorry we weren’t here to help with everything that’s been going on. You can manage yourself, but we’re sorry nonetheless.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Bitterblue said miserably, more tears rolling down her face. Katsa reached over and wiped them with her thumb. “Everything always happens at the worst times. I just missed you both so much.” 

Po’s strong arms came around both of them then, and they stayed that way for several long moments, and Bitterblue thought that it made everything better. Nothing looked too bleak to her when she had Po and Katsa with her. 

“There’s more I ought to tell you,” Bitterblue muttered after a time, her head poking up between the two of them. She had no idea how either of them would react. “Giddon and I -” 

The door opened then, and none other than Giddon himself came into the room with a heavily laden tray of food. “I suppose I missed the party, then,” he said bluntly, depositing the tray on a table. Chuckling, Po stood and went to hug Giddon, the two men clapping each other on the back. “It’s good to see you both back.” Katsa pushed up as well and hugged him tightly. When they separated, Giddon took in Bitterblue’s weepy face and raised his eyebrows. “I suppose Bitterblue has been filling you both in on everything.” 

“I think she still has one thing left to tell us,” Po said impishly, grinning like a cat as he looked from Giddon to Bitterblue, who was doing her best to disappear into the crack between the couch cushions. But then Giddon smiled at her, and she remembered how happy she was, and knew Katsa and Po would be just as much. 

She took a deep breath and stood, folding her hands in front of her. “I’m not sure how much you’ve figured out about the relationship between Giddon and I,” she said slowly, looking at Po with a pointed expression as he tried to appear innocent. When Katsa assumed the same air, Bitterblue realized they both likely knew what was coming next. “We’re engaged.” 

Several emotions crossed Katsa’s face at once, but the one she landed on was more or less joyful, and Bitterblue took this as a good sign. Giddon looked sheepish, but he grinned as Po threw an arm around his shoulder. “Congratulations! When’s the wedding?” 

The newly-betrotheds looked at each other in slight alarm. It had only been a day; they hadn’t had the time to sit down and plan anything. Her advisors had tried to stop her when Po and Katsa had carted her from the offices, but were waylaid by two very stubborn Gracelings. 

“Soon,” Bitterblue said abruptly, and Katsa snorted. 

“Very well said,” she laughed, pulling Bitterblue back in for another tight hug. “I’ll be sure to mark my calendar.” 

“As if you would ever keep a calendar,” Bitterblue retorted, muffled against Katsa’s breast. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the wedding approaches, preparations are well underway, though Bitterblue receives some concerning information.

Once the rest of Bitterblue’s advising team was made aware of the engagement, things began to move at an alarming pace. By the end of the day following Katsa and Po’s return, a date had been set, invites sent out, and a million other things decided that Bitterblue hadn’t even realized were in question.

“How many guests would you like in attendance, Lady Queen?”

“As many as there should be, I suppose.”

“Would you like a train on your gown, Lady Queen?”

“No, I expect I’d trip over it at some point.”

“Would you prefer blue or purple flowers, Lady Queen?”

“Both?” She tried to keep some of the incredulousness out of her voice, but found it difficult as Timon came to her again with more inquiries.

He disappeared down the stairs.

When the door opened again, Bitterblue was at her wit’s end.

“Please, just pick for me-” Her eyes landed on Giddon instead, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness it’s you, Giddon. If you were Timon, I think my head was going to start going in circles.” She glanced at the window and saw it was nearly dark, the sun all but gone from the sky. “Balls, it’s late. When did it get so late?”

Giddon came around her desk to her, resting partially against it and taking her hand. “That’s the passage of time for you, love. It never works how you want it to.” He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face and smiled. “Most of your clerks are gone already. I think Timon was just being a little overbearing, but even he’s done for today.”

She lifted his hand that held hers and kissed his knuckles, closing her eyes for a minute. “Then I suppose I am, too. Have you eaten dinner?”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Goodness. Let’s go, then.”

Holding Giddon’s arm, the two strolled leisurely through the corridors, Bitterblue tiredly chatting about all the plans that had been made in the last day. Thankfully, Giddon seemed more amused than anything else about the sudden flurry of activity, considering he’d only had that much time to process the proposal at all.

“Sabel made a good point when she said it would be better for things to go quickly,” Bitterblue commented, squeezing the arm she held. “Since we’re leaving for the Dells at the end of May, we’ll want to settle into... this, before we depart for so long.”

Giddon nodded in agreement, leading them down the hall outside her apartments. “So what was the decision?”

“The end of February,” she replied, smiling at her Lienid Door Guard as he opened the door for them both. “The twenty-fifth, to be precise.”

When Katsa had come to her office that morning, the date had just been set. Bitterblue knew immediately from the look on Katsa’s face what she was about to say.

“You and Po are leaving for the Middluns,” Bitterblue said before Katsa could speak, “aren’t you?” Her Graceling friend came around the desk and pulled Bitterblue up into a tight hug, and Bitterblue balled her fists in the back of Katsa’s tunic.

“We’ll be back in time for the wedding,” Katsa promised, combing her fingers through Bitterblue’s hair slowly. “We’ll drag Raffin and Bann along with us, and we’ll all be together to celebrate with you two lovebirds. But right now, I _need_ to go be with them. You understand?”

“Of course I understand,” Bitterblue said thickly. “I just never like to see you go. But if you say you’ll be back for the wedding, I believe you.”

Rough lips had pressed to her forehead, before Katsa held her at arm’s length and grinned at her. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” The two had ridden out just after lunch time, despite the fact that it was still snowing. They barreled out of the gates and left Bitterblue with that familiar hollow in her chest, before she’d returned to her seemingly endless to-do list.

Back in her rooms, Bitterblue threw herself into a chair at her dining table and yawned widely, ready to stuff herself full of the food that followed them in not long after they sat. For once, it was just the two of them, no one else barging through her door to distract them from their meal, or each other. Giddon told her about his day, which involved a lot of chatting; he’d been familiarizing himself more with the people in the castle, as well as visiting the tailors to plan the garments he’d wear for the wedding.

“It’s so odd to realize,” he said to her, leaning over his empty plate and frowning thoughtfully, “that after we’re wed, I’ll be… king. King of Monsea. With you.”

“Ah, but I’m the queen,” she joked around a mouthful of food, and he snorted at her. “Trust me when I say you’re not going to get used to ruling. It’s been fifteen years, and I’m still not used to it. And I was raised for it!”

“And you do it quite well. I know that my place will be as more of a companion than anything involving actual ruling. I’m just glad I get to do it with you.”

Bitterblue put down her fork and looked at him, one eyebrow furrowing down as the other quirked up. “You don’t get out of it that easily,” she said gruffly. “I’m not looking for a brainless no-head as a husband, which is why I picked you. I expect you to contribute and help me rule; that’s sort of the _point_ . A partner. A _king_. And I know you have the mind for it.” She stretched out her arm and poked him. “So don’t try to pretend you don’t.”

Giddon continued to look pensive, so she pushed up from her seat and padded to him. He turned to face her, and she leaned over him, his hands holding her hips as she pressed between his legs and trapped his face in her hands. “You’ll be my husband,” she murmured, pressing her lips to the top of his head. “Partner.” Her lips brushed his forehead. “ _Lover_.” His eyelid. “King.” She closed her mouth over his, his head tilting back to accommodate the deep kiss.

When she lifted a leg to straddle his thighs, he gathered her to him, dress and all, and lifted them both from the seat. Strong arms held her aloft, and carried her giggling into her bedchamber, just remembering to kick the door shut behind them.

~*~

The next day found Bitterblue in the tailors’ rooms herself, seated comfortably on a plush couch while she watched Hava get measured. Her sister wasn’t happy about it, the expression on her face sour enough to curdle milk.

“I don’t see why I need a new dress,” Hava moaned, holding her arms aloft as the tailor flitted around her, pins in his mouth and eyebrows furrowed. “I have one already.”

Bitterblue tried not to snicker. “You’re going to be before the entirety of the court, and every royal guest from all over the seven kingdoms, as well as the Dellian ambassador. Your single gown is not suited for such a royal occasion.” Another groan came from Hava, and Bitterblue had to hide her grin. “Come now, Hava, it’s not so bad as all that. Master Slanem here does excellent work. I am sure you can survive.”

“You’re too kind, Lady Queen,” Slanem chirped, frowning as Hava flinched away from his pin. “Hold still, girl!”

“Why don’t _you_ have to get measured?” Hava pouted at her, forcing herself to stand like a statue.

The queen shrugged, crossing one leg beneath her. “I get measured for new gowns often enough, they have all my measurements. I’m not likely to change at all between now and the wedding.”

She had already spent the majority of the morning squished between Slanem and Helda, poring over sketches the tailor had done of possibilities for her wedding dress. Helda was fond of a high neckline, with delicate embroidery across the bodice; the tailor argued, saying that a low neckline would do her more favor. Bitterblue agreed with Slanem, but she let them bicker for a time before voicing her opinion.

“I like the low,” she’d said, at which Helda had thrown up her arms and crossed them over her chest, finally relenting. The design they settled on was breathtaking; a soft gray in color, dipping down the front of the chest and widening out at the shoulders, with slightly puffed sleeves and a beaten gold corset, inlaid with stones and etched with flowing curls. A matching collar for her neck, to bring the look together. Bitterblue couldn’t wait to wear it.

Hava continued to make noises of complaint, until with some disdain Slanem declared her finished. Fed up, Hava leapt off the stool, threw her tunic and pants back on, and stumped out the door. Bitterblue was left blinking, looking at the tailor with a bewildered expression.

“Well,” Bitterblue said slowly, “I suppose that went about as well as I could have hoped for.” Slanem seemed as frustrated as Hava, so Bitterblue figured she’d be better off leaving him to his work. She slipped out the door and stood in the corridor, peering around and trying to decide where to go. She could have lunch brought to her room, but likely she’d be alone and that wasn’t what she wanted.

With no idea where Giddon or anyone else was, she decided to head to the kitchens, where there were always people and it was always loud. Practically dragging her feet, Bitterblue made the walk there, humming and trying to take as long as possible. She was sure to get a tongue lashing for it when she returned to her desk, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Her Graceling sniffer hovered around her for a moment when she entered the bustling kitchens, before she went to sit at the small table in the corner, out of the way. An assistant cook came over a few minutes later, carrying a heavy plate laden with sandwiches and a heaping chunk of death-by-chocolate cake.

Bitterblue didn’t know where the void in her stomach came from, but she scarfed the sandwiches and the cake down and was left feeling supremely satisfied.

When she finally returned to her desk, she was shocked not to be immediately set upon by her people; indeed, they were all gone when she arrived. A clerk told her they’d all disappeared on various errands, and she was left to her own devices. There wasn’t even much paperwork on her desk, aside from a stack enclosed in a thick folder, with a note resting on top:

_‘Lady Queen,_

_Inside you will find many of the documents we discovered in the criminal lair on the Estillian border. I know things are busy currently with the wedding preparations, but I thought you might like to look at these anyways. The prisoners are to be tried the week after the wedding, so you might sit in on the proceedings. Some of these have given me cause for concern, so I am in the process of training and scheduling more guards to keep you and the city safe from any harm._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Captain Olan’_

Looking at the file, Bitterblue slowly lowered herself into her seat, suddenly unsure. Did she really want to know what was within these orders? Some might say in this case that ignorance was bliss; after all, Olan had said he was taking precautions. What good could come from her being made more nervous than she already was?

But her curiosity got the better of her, as it always did, and she flipped open the front of the folder and scanned the first sheet. It wasn’t much; it looked like a supply list to her, though for those of a violent nature. Different types of weapons, combustibles, and a few herbs she recognized as the ingredients of certain poisons. They also listed general supplies, like canvas and rope and other materials.

Bitterblue turned the page.

It took her a moment to realize what she was looking at. When she’d read the whole page, she immediately slammed the folder shut, so hard that the breeze from it sent a small stack of forms flying over the edge of her desk and onto the floor.

An hour later, when Sabel returned to the tower office from assisting Death with the reorganizing of books, she found the queen, frozen, elbows resting on the desk and her face in her hands.

“Lady Queen!” she cried, and Bitterblue startled at the address, looking up with wide eyes. “Lady Queen, what’s the matter? You look ill! Should I send for Madlen?”

“No,” Bitterblue whispered, then, “actually, yes. And Giddon, if you know where he is. And Hava. And Helda, too, as well as Captain Olan.”

Sabel was looking at her in alarm. Bitterblue realized how frantic she sounded, and forced herself to take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Sabel. Captain Olan brought me some information that has left me - deeply disturbed.” She pressed her fingers into her cheeks, trying to calm herself further to little success. “Actually - Sabel, I’m sorry. Can you just send Giddon to me?”

Her advisor dipped her head and hurried to do what the queen asked, and Giddon came through the door a short while later.

“That was fast,” Bitterblue said with little emotion, staring at Giddon through half-lidded eyes as he came around her desk.

Giddon dropped into a crouch beside her, hands lifting to cup her face. “That’s because Sabel was rushing around half mad, frantic that she find me quickly. I think you scared her, love. Your expression is scaring me a bit as well, if I’m being honest. Are you alright? Sabel mentioned something about your guard captain.”

Instead of replying, Bitterblue thumbed to the second page of the folder and pulled the sheet out, offering it to Giddon to read. She watched his face. His eyes scanned the page, and his eyebrows furrowed. His mouth took on a harder line than she’d seen on him, and she thought that anger sat on him quite handsomely.

When his eyes rose to hers, she grimaced. “I didn’t much like it either. A bit graphic for my taste.” The paper listed, in intimate detail, what someone wished to be done to the ruler of Monsea, and those close to her. “I can’t imagine who I’ve angered this badly, but I should like to meet them.”

“Where did this come from?” Giddon’s voice was dangerously quiet, and Bitterblue decided to reel back on the humor.

“I told you about the raid Captain Olan conducted, and his findings.” She patted the folder. “These are some of the documents he uncovered. The musings of anarchists, I suppose.” She watched as Giddon leaned over her desk and flicked through the papers himself, mouthing the words he read and the rage settling into his entire body, shoulders stiff and fist clenched. When he finally threw the cover shut in disgust, Bitterblue reached up and took his hand, gently opening the tight fist and squeezing.

“You know, I thought I might have another desk put in here,” Bitterblue said, changing the subject abruptly. “So you might do work alongside me. How does that sound?”

“I’m going to find the captain,” Giddon ground out instead, dropping to kiss the top of her head before barreling out the door.

And Bitterblue was left at her desk, staring at the papers and feeling like she was buried in shadow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February arrives, and the castle is preparing for a royal wedding. (shameless, self-indulgent fluff)

February came and wore on, and Bitterblue found herself more swamped than ever. She had thought the wedding would bring her some peace, but instead she continued to be hounded by her advisors and others around the castle about the most minute of details. She barely even saw Giddon, who told her he had endless preparations of his own to make. When she finally railed at Helda about all of it, the maidservant took over most of the decision-making. Only a few things were brought to Bitterblue, like some of the specifics of the feast and the style of the rings of state she and Giddon were to don.

When it came to the ceremony, Bitterblue didn’t know what to expect. Some of the Monsean traditions had been buried by King Leck, though her teams of truthseekers had discovered books with information on them a few years previously. This was how Bitterblue found herself curled up in Teddy’s home behind the shop three days before the event, feet tucked beneath her on their sofa and flicking through a thick book titled  _ Hand-Fasting and Traditional Monsean Marriage Rites _ . Teddy was stretched out beside her, and Saf had squished himself in between Teddy and the armrest, pressing Bitterblue into hers. 

Tilda and Bren watched amusedly from a loveseat by the fire.The two had just been married themselves, matching rings glinting on their hands. Bitterblue had attended the ceremony, disguised as Sparks once more so as not to detract attention from the brides, and she had thought it especially lovely. It took place inside the living quarters of the shop, only close friends present, with food brought by the guests and seemingly endless drinks. They’d both been dressed so simply, but each radiating a soft beauty, with flower crowns on their heads rather than veils. Quietly, and only to herself, Bitterblue wished that she and Giddon could have something similar, not this huge to-do that was required because she was the head of the state. It felt so false, having to be draped in finery and paraded around before the massive number of guests that would be present.

“I wish I had the time to make the cord,” Bitterblue lamented, pointing at a passage her book that described the bride weaving the cord used to tie the hands together. “But I barely have time to eat lately, let alone sit down and  _ weave _ . I barely even remember how to. I think Helda is making it.” 

“At least it’s from someone close to you,” Teddy supplied, smiling reassuringly at her, “rather than from some unknown laborer. And you know Helda will take the utmost care with it.” 

“She is terribly fond of Giddon,” Bitterblue agreed, closing the book on her hand to keep her place. “I think she’s been a bit scandalized by this whole thing, though. Thinking of all the times the two of us have been left without a chaperone. She keeps narrowing her eyes at him and frowning, then shaking her head and tutting.” Thinking of Giddon always made her smile, even as stressed as she was. She’d left him in the castle that evening, as he gave her some vague explanation about a cook and Ornik the blacksmith needing his help with something. 

Suddenly, Teddy launched himself up. “Let’s go out,” he said in an excited tone, dragging Bitterblue up with him. She tossed the book down and let him pull her, though she made herself mostly dead weight. He grunted as she practically fell against him, teetering and trying to keep them both upright. “Woah there!” 

She snickered, righting herself and keeping him up as well. “Why do you want to go out? I’m  _ tired _ . Can’t I just - take a nap on your sofa or something?” 

“Absolutely not,” Saf declared from his seat. “We’re going to go out, get you sozzled, and send you back to the castle falling over your feet. I can’t wait to see your advisor’s faces when you can’t string a full sentence together tomorrow morning. Ever had a hangover, Sparks? I’m willing to bet not.” 

“No, and I’m not about to start tonight,” she said crisply, pulling a face at him. “If you want to go out, I’m willing to come along and make sure you don’t get into trouble - but don’t expect me to help you wreck havoc.”

“That’s okay,” Teddy said gleefully, pulling Saf up and throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Tilda and Bren will come too. The more, the merrier, they always say!” Bitterblue was suspicious of her friends, all four of them smiling like they shared some wild secret. They probably did; Bitterblue was surely allowing herself to be lead into some kind of awful trap. 

Her suspicions only grew when they wouldn’t let her put on the cloak she used to hide her face. This nearly kept her from leaving the apartment. 

“I’ll be recognized,” she said breathlessly, even as they assured her they weren’t going far, and no one would know her. 

She was almost to her breaking point when Tilda paused to fix her hair, tying several strands away from her face and threading it with flowers. Bren’s fingers passed over her cheeks, and Bitterblue could see glitter flashing just beneath her vision. 

“What in the world is going on?” she cried as Teddy hooked her arm with his and lead their procession from the shop. “Teddy, for the love of-”

“Stop  _ worrying _ so much, Sparks,” Saf said behind them. “Just take a deep breath and have some fun, yeah?” The weather that day had been remarkably mild for the winter, and Bitterblue wasn’t cold in the thick dress she wore, with the neckline up to her chin and embroidered with flowers. She was wracking her brain, trying to figure out if there was some holiday she’d forgotten about, but couldn’t think of a one. 

When she realized their party was heading toward the story room closest to the shop, some of her concern abated. Perhaps they were just being cryptic and odd to mess with her. It was something they would do, performing a harmless prank that gave Bitterblue far more stress than it ought. She started to relax, squeezing Teddy’s arm to show him she as calming down, and he grinned down at her. 

“There they are,” a familiar voice said as they approached the entrance, someone hidden in shadow. Gold glinted in the half-light, and Po pushed off the wall beside the door, a wide smile on his handsome face. Bitterblue nearly lost her breath as Katsa slipped from the shadows as well, smirking at her and bracing a hand on one hip. 

“I told you we couldn’t expect them any earlier than eleven,” Katsa said, followed by a laugh as Bitterblue rushed forward to hug her. “Hey, now! Don’t get glitter all over me!” Bitterblue vaguely registered Teddy and the others slipping into the story room past them, the door clicking shut before Bitterblue heard any of the normal evening noise coming from within. 

Po pulled her in for a hug as well, laughing at his cousin’s speechless reaction. “No words of welcome? Confusion? Unmitigated rage?” 

“Mostly confusion,” Bitterblue gasped, not letting go of either of their hands. “When did you two get back?” Her eyes passed over them, and she thought they looked clean, not like they’d just come from the road. Po’s hair was wet, his dark ponytail draped over his shoulder and leaving a wet mark on his tunic. 

“About two hours ago,” Katsa said appeasingly, noting the underlying current of hurt in Bitterblue’s question. “We washed and came straight here.” 

“But why? Why here?” She looked between the two of them, beyond bemusement or any other known emotion, her heart pounding in her chest. They seemed in good health. She wondered of Raffin, and knew her mind must be turning like a clock, for Po let out a rush of laughter. 

“I think we’ve tormented her enough, Katsa,” Po said in a mysterious tone. “Shall we proceed?” 

Katsa practically purred at him. “I think we shall.” 

Bitterblue was beyond herself when Po offered her his arm. “Lady Queen, if you will,” he said imperiously. She glared daggers at him, eyes narrowed and mouth twitching, but she rested her hand in the crook of his arm and followed him as he pushed open the door and stepped through. 

There was no rush of familiar noise to meet them; it was nearly silent inside, save for someone playing a harp in a corner. Her eyes flicked around the room, trying to take everything in at once. It wasn’t crowded, and instead of tables, there were a small number of chairs lined up with a short aisle in the center that lead to the bar. And waiting at the end of the aisle was Giddon, dressed plainly in a tunic and trousers and boots, but beaming like the happiest man on the planet. He stood beneath an archway that had been set up just before the counter, laced with flowers and glittering decorations. Bitterblue recognized it from Bren and Tilda’s wedding, and her heart hitched in her throat. 

Her eyes felt starved for Giddon, but she took in the others present: Helda and Hava, watching her from their seats at the front, Raffin and Bann beside them; Sabel, Liene, Timon, and Froggatt were seated on the other side of the short aisle; Madlen and Anna, the head baker; even Skye, Po’s older brother and her cousin, was there. Teddy, Saf, Bren, and Tilda had all taken seats as well, grinning at her and giving her several cheeky thumbs-up. 

Nerves settled in, and Bitterblue felt like there were animals fighting in her stomach, but she startled and kept walking as Po did, winking down at her from great heights. She let her eyes settle on Giddon again, and she felt her lip start to quiver. She was convinced she was in a dream, one which she hoped to never wake up from, but she wasn’t sure if even Saf’s Grace could create something so wonderful. 

The last person in the room was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one; Judge Piper from her court, waiting with Giddon at the end of the aisle. There was no sign of the bartender or any of the normal story room guests. The room was lit from the small fireplace, and by hundreds of candles around the room, casting a warm glow on all those present.

When she and Po reached the arch, he hugged her shoulders and leaned down to kiss her temple. “There, now, Beetle,” he murmured before letting her go, “nothing to fret about.” And he fled to slip into a seat beside Katsa, who had followed them in. 

Giddon stepped up to her then, and she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, as he gently took her hand. “Lady Queen,” he said softly, “I hope you’ll forgive the secrecy. I’m afraid I wanted this to be a complete surprise, and by the look on your face, I succeeded.” 

“I - can’t believe all this,” she whispered, not trusting her voice any louder. “How did you know…?” 

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles like air. “Because I see you.”

Behind him, Piper quietly cleared his throat, and Giddon winked at her before turning to face the judge, squeezing her hand between them. “Lady Queen,” Piper said, dipping his head to her before looking around the room. “Ladies and gentlemen. As you all  _ now  _ know,” and there was some muted laughter at this, “we have gathered here this evening to witness these two people join together as man and wife, and to offer them our love and support with our presence.” There was a blowing noise, and Bitterblue glanced behind her to see Helda burying her face in a handkerchief. 

“Marriage,” Piper went on, smiling gently, “is more than just a ceremony and a certificate. It’s more than a party, more than a long, arduous ceremony, and more than the trifles of tradition. It’s an agreement, a partnership, between two people who cannot see life without the other, who trust one another, and support and honor one another in all ways.” He went on, but Bitterblue only heard half of it as she took in as much of Giddon as she could. His attentive brown eyes, the slope of his lips, the ease of his smile as he listened to Piper. But his eyes flicked down to hers, and the smile widened. 

When it came time for the handfasting, Giddon reached into his tunic and brought out a long cord that glimmered in the flickering light, catching colors of red and orange and yellow, but also hints of silver and gold and purple as well. “I made it,” Giddon said sheepishly, turning it over in his hands and glancing out at their friends. “Helda is an excellent - and patient - teacher.” Bitterblue was without words, and tears welled up in her eyes. 

Piper took the cord from Giddon. “If you would face each other and lift your hands. Lady Queen, yours on top - yes, perfect.” Slowly he stretched out the cord, coiling the extra around his hand and pulling from it as needed. He placed the end of the cord between Bitterblue and Giddon’s joined hands, speaking as he wrapped. The cord was smooth and soft, and Bitterblue was impressed by the effort Giddon must have put into it. “These are the hands of your best friend, your partner and the love of your life. These are the hands that will hold yours, wipe your tears, feed you, nurse you, hold you and guide you as you build your life and this kingdom together. Even when they both are wrinkled and frail, these are the hands that will squeeze yours, and keep you bound as one until you both depart this world.” He tied a loose knot at the top of their hands, and stepped back. “Now, in the presence of your dearest friends, you may kiss, and be joined together for all time.”

With their hands completely bound and tears on their cheeks, Bitterblue and Giddon’s lips met, a sweet and wet kiss, as the room erupted in cheers and the two were suddenly showered in flower petals. They laughed as the petals caught in their hair and on their clothes, and Piper helped them to undo the cord. And Giddon’s arms were around her and they kissed again, deeply, her feet nearly swept out from beneath her. 

The rest of the evening was a whirlwind to Bitterblue. There was food, and all the apple cider she could drink, as everyone mingled and laughed and ate, all content for a moment just to be happy and with one another. It was a nice reprieve, not to worry about appearances or politics or dangerous criminals, but instead just enjoy the company of those she loved. 

~*~

  
Curled around one another in the bed they now shared, Bitterblue sat up against the massive stack of pillows and raised her eyebrows at Giddon. “You know we have to do all that again in three days. In front of ten times the people. Draped in heavy finery and sweating all the judgements of the guests.” She snorted. “You’re not even technically _the king_ yet. The crown ceremony is far more taxing.” 

Giddon rested his head on her stomach, looking up at her and curling the corners of his lips. “I know it, and that’s alright. I just thought… you might like something more intimate. Just for us. You know?” He sat up and leaned beside her, and she lifted her hands to his face. 

“No one has ever done anything like this for me,” she said thickly, her voice nearly breaking. “I don’t know how you knew exactly what I wanted, but it was the best thing you could have ever done for me. The greatest gift. I love you, more than I ever realized it was possible to love someone.” She kissed him, once, softly, and then harder, until all she knew was him, and his taste, and his touch. 

The next three days flew by, and it was oddly pleasing to have this knowledge in her mind, that they were already married, before any of the other guests had even arrived. She was so glad that Katsa and Po and Raffin and Bann had been able to make it, for it wouldn’t have felt real without them there. 

It was nice also not having to sneak Giddon into her chambers; Helda made no inquiries, and some part of each day was spent moving Giddon’s things from his chambers to hers. The royal apartments had always felt too large to her anyways; it would be nice to have another person around to fill the space. 

The day before the official wedding, Master Slanem came to her apartments with her dress packaged away, and she banished all her young men, even though there was no real point to the secrecy, but she wanted a surprise of her own. 

Katsa and Hava helped her to pull the gown out and step into it, soft noises of pleasure coming from both of them at the detailing. With the heavy garment on, Bitterblue stepped before the long mirror in her dressing room and was floored by her own appearance. It wasn’t often Bitterblue believed she looked like a queen, but standing there in this breathtaking outfit, she was convinced she fit the image, for once. 

The next day, Bitterblue woke early to Helda tossing open her curtains, and promptly buried her face back in her pillows. Giddon was already gone; she hadn’t even heard him leave. 

“Time to get ready, Lady Queen! And don’t you go back to sleep!” Helda scolded, thwacking her with a discarded throw pillow. Bitterblue groaned and forced herself up, shrugging out of her dressing gown and padding to her bathing room, where Helda had already drawn her a steaming bath. The warm water helped her to wake as she rubbed sleep from her eyes, and scrubbed a sweet-smelling tincture in her hair at Helda’s command. 

She spent the morning at Helda’s whim, allowing her maidservant to abuse both her hair and her face. By one o’clock, after a hastily-eaten lunch, Bitterblue was feeling thoroughly vexed, and ready to be done with the whole thing. But she couldn’t deny that Helda had done a good job; before the mirror once again, with her dress on and hair done in an elaborate half-up braided style, Bitterblue knew she would cut an impressive figure today, despite her small stature. When Helda placed the crown carefully atop her head, it felt almost right.

The procession to the ceremony hall was a long one, but the working class people of the castle lined the halls, calling out to her and waving as she ambled by. She returned their smiles and their waves, and felt a tightness in her chest that came from receiving such support from her people. Once, Bitterblue worried that she was unfit as a monarch, that one day the Council might need to come depose her; but she knew the love her people showed for her was real and she would do everything in her power to never lose it. 

When they came to the grand doors of the hall, Helda kissed her cheek tearfully before slipping away to enter through a side door. Bitterblue stood with her small squadron of guards while the steward announced her arrival to those already gathered within, heart in her throat. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, gathered dignitaries and friends of the court of Monsea… I present to you, Queen Bitterblue of Monsea!” 

The chatter within subsided as everyone stood. With her chin thrust forward, Bitterblue strode into the light of the massive room, and forced herself to glide down the center aisle. She was thankful that a quick glance found her loved ones; Katsa, Po, and Raffin were all standing in the corner of the audience nearest the altar. Po caught her eye and winked. 

When she reached the end of the aisle, she lifted the hem of her dress and carefully stepped to the top, turning to face the room at large. Even after so many years, it unnerved her to have so many eyes upon her, but she kept her head high as applause rang out, and a faint smile crossed her features. 

“Presenting… Lord Giddon of the Middluns!” The smile on her face spread as Giddon appeared in the doorway, his own outfit nearly as resplendent as her own. She knew it to be Slanem’s work, as it the same color as her gown, just in different shades. He wore a mantle of dark grey, embroidered with gold and held together by two clasps at the front and bearing wide, split sleeves; the off-white tunic underneath had similar gold embroidery, and flared open at the neck; and he wore high black leather boots with well-fitted, nearly black trousers. His lovely brown hair was smoothed away from his forehead, and his beard freshly trimmed. 

She knew the joy on his face must match her own, for she could feel her cheeks pressing her eyes nearly closed. As he climbed the stairs to join her, she offered him her hand, and they turned to face Judge Piper for the second time that week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The basis for Bitterblue's royal wedding outfit - https://www.pinterest.com/pin/176977460342177621/  
> The basis for Giddon's - https://www.pinterest.com/pin/176977460342254294/


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has been such a long time coming, and it's dreadfully short - I just couldn't bang it out, but I'm finally feeling this story a bit more again!

By the first week of March, the snow had melted all across Monsea, and everyone was scrambling to make up for the time lost. More paperwork came through the offices than Bitterblue had ever thought possible, and she was immeasurably glad to be able to shove some of it off on Giddon.

“I’m convinced,” he said one day from his own new desk, “that you only asked for my hand because you wanted someone to split all this work with.” 

Bitterblue snickered. “That’s not the  _ only _ reason,” she said innocently. “Now I also get to make you deal with my insufferable advisors for me.” 

“Your insufferable advisors resent that comment, Lady Queen,” Sabel said, stepping through the door with another stack of paperwork. Bitterblue swept up from her desk, took the papers from Sabel, and kissed the woman on both cheeks. 

“Everyone but you, sweet Sabel,” she sang, dropping the papers onto the desk and beaming. “You know I could not do without you!” The woman shot her an amused look before wandering back out. Bitterblue met Giddon’s eyes and both of them broke into raucous laughter. She went around his desk and didn’t even have to lean over to kiss his cheek. “I know you jest, my love, but having you here makes my day infinitely better.”

His hands went up to her waist, pulling him close to her and planting a kiss firmly on her mouth. “Then the work is nothing to me, if it makes you happy.” She pushed a hand through his thick brown hair, ruining any sense of order in it. He didn’t seem to mind. 

“Has there been any more from Captain Olan?” Bitterblue asked, perching on Giddon’s leg with her arm around his lower back. 

He frowned at her. Since the discovery of their intentions, Giddon had been handling anything to do with the apparent band of anarchists, and Bitterblue hadn’t minded one bit, not after everything. She didn’t actually enjoy getting attacked. She’d barely stepped foot out of the castle since the wedding, just once for a small tour around the city to show off Monsea’s new king. 

“Queen Bitterblue! King Giddon!” the people had called to them, waving from the back of an open carriage. In the years since Bitterblue’s reforms had been implemented, she’d become quite popular with the citizens; and Giddon was well-known as a member of the Council, and a champion of the common folk in the seven kingdoms. 

She’d huddled close to Giddon, shivering even beneath the furs they both wore, and held his hand between them on the seat. Even freezing and with a sore arm, Bitterblue had never been so full of joy, and love, for her husband and her people. 

“He’s been heading more raids,” Giddon said slowly, his hand tightening over her hip. “But they seem to be two steps ahead of him at all times. He’s expressed concern to me at the possibility of a turncoat within the Guard, but took off for another investigation before we could look into it.” She took this information in thoughtfully, rubbing her finger back and forth in a fold of his tunic. 

“I wonder from time to time if that Graceling from before might not be a part of all of it,” she mused, leveling her gaze with his. “But I’m not sure he was much of an anarchist. Although he  _ is _ a murderer, he seemed more concerned with the plights of the common people. And now that I more or less know he doesn’t want  _ me _ dead, I feel a bit better. Not much, but a bit.” 

There was a smart knock at the door, and Bitterblue almost lurched away from Giddon, but realized she no longer really had to. “Enter,” she called, and the door opened to reveal one of the guards that had recently been stationed at the bottom of the stairs leading to her office. She remembered his name, and pushed to her feet anyways. “Quinton. Is everything all right?”

The guard dipped his head to both of them. “I am sorry to interrupt, Lady Queen, Lord King,” he said in his deep voice, “but there’s a woman down here demanding to speak to you. She seems a bit crazed, so we didn’t want to allow her up without asking first. She said her name is Minasta.” Bitterblue looked at Giddon, and his confusion matched her own. 

“Well, send her up, I suppose,” Bitterblue told Quinton, and he bowed before disappearing back down the stairs. “Minasta. I don’t recognize her name.”

Only a minute passed before Quinton returned with the woman before him. She shuffled into the office, breathing heavily, eyes flicking around, and immediately Bitterblue felt ill at ease. It took her a moment to realize the woman had the eyes of a Graceling, one brown, and the other an alarming white, like she had only a pupil in that eye. Quinton stood at attention beside the doorway, and Bitterblue was very glad he remained.

“Lady Queen,” she breathed when her eyes finally settled on Bitterblue. “Lord King. Th-thank you for… allowing me to see you today.” 

Bitterblue forced herself to put on her queenly air. “Of course, Minasta,” she said kindly. “Though I am wondering how you made it so far into the offices.” 

The woman sucked in a loud breath through her nose. “I work in the c-castle, Lady Queen,” she muttered, staring at her feet now. “I’m a cleaner. Oftentimes, m-my job includes removing various rubbish from the castle. Trash. Waste. Laundry. Wh-what have you.” Bitterblue sensed there was more to follow, and so did not speak. Minasta seemed to be struggling to speak, and when she finally did, her voice was barely a rasp. “I - I found something. This morning.” 

Giddon spoke then, in a voice that was both gentle and demanding. “What did you find, Minasta?” 

A strangled sound came from the woman’s throat, and Quinton stood straighter, his eyes completely focused on her. “M-my Grace, it - it’s weird, strange, n-no one trusts me, but it - allows me to hold an object, and I can t-tell its history, where it’s been, who’s held it, what it’s done.” She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and moaned. “It was clearly a rushed thing - wrapped in layers and layers of sheets and towels and l-linens, meant to be washed or destroyed or - something. But I picked up the bundle and I could feel the violence, Lady Queen, it was so vivid -” 

The woman let out a sob and dropped to the floor. Bitterblue’s heart went to her, and so did she, moving around the desk and crouching beside the woman, putting a hand on her back comfortingly. “It’s okay, Minasta,” she said softly. “You won’t get in any trouble. Tell us what you found.” Her face, streaked with tears, rose to meet Bitterblue’s, and Bitterblue realized she was a lot younger than she initially thought, perhaps even younger than the queen herself. 

“A knife,” she whispered, “stained with blood, with murder. Guard Captain Olan’s.” 

~*~

The castle went on lockdown. 

Following Minasta’s shocking reveal, everyone sprang into action. Quinton clanged down the stairs, calling for the gates to be closed, no one was to come in or go out, and Giddon was on his feet, cursing. Bitterblue sat down where she was, cross-legged, not registering anything beyond her own shock and fear. She felt like everything was coming back, and images of bloated bodies and blood flashed in front of her eyes over and over. 

It took her several moments to register Giddon, kneeling beside her and squeezing her hand repeatedly. “Bitterblue. Love. Let’s stand, come on.” He helped her to her feet, and it was then she realized how much her legs hurt. How long had she been on the floor? 

Minasta was gone. Quinton was gone, replaced by two guards who were looking carefully away from the king and queen. Bitterblue remembered, suddenly, that Po and Katsa had been there too. When they’d spoken to her, crouched on either side of her, she’d just stared ahead, hearing nothing. 

“Where did they go?” Giddon looked at her questioningly, his arm supporting her. “Po and Katsa. Where are they?” 

“They left, to go assist with the apparent manhunt. They took Minasta with them. Do you remember?” She did then. “Everything has been halted until the murderer is found. They found Captain Olan’s body, bundled up with the piles Minasta had found the knife in. Madlen said he didn’t suffer. She thought you might like to know.” 

Madlen had been there? Big tears flowed down her face now, her lip trembling, and Giddon pulled her tight against him. “Alright, let’s go. There’s nothing more to be done today. How about dinner? Maybe some chocolate cake?” She made a noncommittal noise, her face pressed into Giddon’s chest, and felt him sigh. When she made no move to go, he dropped down and hoisted her up, like a parent would carry a small child. She’d worn trousers today, and she wrapped her legs around his torso and buried her face in his neck. The guards with them in the office followed them from a small distance from the room, all the way back to her apartments, where her Lienid Door Guard took over. 

News came slowly. The sun set. Then Katsa came herself, very late, sitting with Bitterblue, who wouldn’t let go of Giddon. She told them what had been discovered. 

“That cleaning girl who came to you, Minasta. Her Grace is frankly alarming. It doesn’t just work with objects, but people as well. Po is helping, posing as just extra muscle, but helping to ascertain guilt. They’re going through everyone, one by one, and having Minasta feel for evil intent. If the murderer is in the castle, she’ll find them.” Katsa reached out and took Bitterblue’s hand delicately. “Have you eaten?” 

When Bitterblue didn’t reply, Giddon answered for her. “No, I couldn’t coax her to eat a thing.”

Katsa squeezed her hand, leaning toward her to make Bitterblue look at her. “You need to eat, sweetling. You know you do. I know you’re frightened, but you’re well out of danger, and everything is being done to catch whoever did this.” 

“I just don’t want anyone else to die,” Bitterblue whispered, barely audible, and it was the first thing she’d said all evening. Katsa sighed quietly, and gently pried Bitterblue off of Giddon and pulled her into her arms, and then Bitterblue didn’t want to let go of Katsa, tears falling fresh again. She felt Giddon get up, stretching his limbs with a groan, and heard him wander into the next room. 

He came back with a plate full of food, and Bitterblue realized she was ravenous. She ate with gusto while the two of them looked on, silent tears falling unbidden down her cheeks as she unceremoniously stuffed her face. 

She finished and sat back, exhausted suddenly, and Katsa stood up to go. “I’ll come to you immediately if anything else is found. Get some rest.” She touched Bitterblue’s cheek lightly before going. 

Bitterblue let Giddon help her dress for bed, still wearing her uncomfortable court dress, and he brushed out her hair, comforting her with his easy silence. She crawled up beside him in their bed and fell into a blissful, dreamless sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow okay sorry I'm still working on this it is just very slow going

The manhunt revealed nothing. It continued over several days, throughout the whole castle, which was no small feat, but eventually activities had to resume as normal; whoever had killed Captain Olan must have cleared off the minute they’d committed their crime. 

Helda was beside herself. “I can’t imagine how this could’ve happened, right under the noses of the Monsean Guard. What were they  _ doing _ ? How did someone get in and out of this castle completely untried?” 

It was Giddon who spoke in their defense, because Bitterblue had never fully regained her faith in the Monsean Guard to start with. “They do the best they can, Helda. It’s a big castle, there are several different routes in and out that might have been missed.” 

“It’s disgraceful,” Helda snapped, before bustling out of the chambers. Everyone had been rather on edge of late, but this reaction of Helda’s surprised both Giddon and Bitterblue. 

“I think she’s just worried,” Bitterblue said bleakly, squeezing Giddon’s hand. In the weeks since the attack, the two of them had set up desks within their rooms, and were under constant watch by the Lienid Door Guard, twenty-four hours a day. It was chafing on them both, to be under such scrutiny, but until something was uncovered about the murder, they didn’t have much of a choice. Their safety was paramount in keeping the kingdom intact.

It was making Bitterblue go slightly mad; any time she stepped out of her rooms, she had a squadron of four Lienid Guards surrounding her, as did Giddon. She wasn’t allowed to leave the castle, could barely even wander the halls or the grounds, so everything came to her so slowly. Her advisors did their best to keep her up to date, but her rooms were rather far from the offices where everything was processed and had to have everything sent to her. 

She missed her city friends, who had done so much for her. She missed Katsa and Po, who had been spending a lot of time in the city themselves, looking for clues they might have missed. Hava went with them as well, because as a spy she was invaluable. She and Po together were unstoppable. 

So when her Lienid Guard Nester knocked on her door one day to announce the arrival of Teddy and Saf, Bitterblue was overjoyed. The two men came in, looking slightly worse for wear, clothing ruffled and Saf rubbing his elbow with a look of disdain. 

“Are you alright, Saf?” she asked after hugging them both tightly. 

“Your Door Guard has gotten significantly more… enthusiastic in their searching us,” Saf grumbled, fixing the sash he wore around the top of his trousers. “I think they enjoyed roughing us up. I know we look like ragamuffins, but they don’t have to  _ treat _ us like it.” 

“Only you look like a ragamuffin, Saf,” Bitterblue said affectionately, patting his arm. “But I’m sorry. I’ll tell them not to be so aggressive in the future with the two of you.” She went and sat behind her desk, putting her head in her hands. “It’s been such a pain, all these extra security measures. Truly, I think I’ll go insane before all this is finished. I haven’t been alone for  _ weeks _ .” 

Teddy looked at her sympathetically, his dark brows drawn up on his forehead. “I’m sorry for the trouble, Lady Queen. We’re all just ever so glad you’ve not been harmed, and while the extra security may be a hindrance to you, we’re just thankful to know you’re well-protected.” He settled into the chair across Bitterblue’s desk from her. “Has nothing been found out yet?” 

“Nothing,” she said bleakly, rubbing her face. “We’ve appointed a new guard captain, who seems competent enough, but everything being put on his plate is quite a lot. And he’s a lot to live up to.” She turned her tired eyes to them. “I was rather hoping the two of you might have news for me.”

“I’m afraid not, Lady Queen,” Teddy said with a small shake of his head. “I swear to you we’ve been looking, but to no avail. There’s just… nothing.” 

“Maybe not nothing, Sparks,” Saf hurried to add, elbowing Teddy, “but we just haven’t found it yet. We won’t stop looking, will we, Teddy?”

“Absolutely not,” Teddy agreed emphatically. “We are ever your tireless servants in this ordeal, Lady Queen, don’t you worry.” 

She smiled at them both, feeling like the first genuine smile she’d worn since this all began. “I appreciate that more than you both can imagine, truly.” 

“Are you still going to the Dells in June?” Saf asked, hovering beside Teddy. “Seems like a bit of bad timing.” 

“Oh, I don’t know anymore,” Bitterblue breathed as she leaned back in her chair. “It’s barely come up, except for Froggatt saying basically the same, that the timing is inopportune. But I’m not willing to call it off yet. We’ve been planning it for literal years, and I desperately want to see the Dells, and Lady Fire again.”

“And I’m sure you will, Lady Queen,” Teddy said gently. “This will all be over soon enough. But as it turns out, we have come with  _ some _ news today, but not about this. It’s about that pink and green-eyed Graceling from before, you’ll remember?” 

This was a surprise to Bitterblue. “Goodness, I’d nearly forgotten all about him. I didn’t figure I’d be hearing of him again, he did just up and disappear. Has something happened?” 

“Nothing has  _ happened _ , exactly,” Saf explained, “but one of our Council contacts told us he’s been spotted in Sunder, flitting around King Murgon. If what he said to you in true, about seeking peace - albeit by gruesome means - it seems to us that he’s lining up to do something again. Staging Murgon’s disposal sounds like his brand, doesn’t it?” 

“It certainly does,” Bitterblue sighed, disquieted now. “I’d say I would ask Katsa and Po to go do something about him - but I don’t want him gaining either of their Graces. That was half the problem last time.” 

“Would you like for me to go?” Saf asked, sounding far too excited at the idea. “I could poke around mostly undetected.” 

She was already shaking her head. “I would really prefer to keep you close, where I can get to you should I need you. You’re of much more use to me here.” 

He looked like he wanted to argue, but did not. “That’s all we have for you, then, Lady Queen,” Teddy said, rising. “We’ll leave you to your work.” She rose as well, coming around her desk to them. Teddy gently took her hand, lifted it to his lips, kissed it. “We really are thankful you weren’t hurt, Sparks.” 

Bitterblue hugged them both again, fiercely, before they departed.


End file.
